Warrior Comparison
by GalaxieGurl
Summary: A television show prompts a reverie by Booth. Note: this is actually a slight crossover between Bones and SEAL Team, but I couldn't get the Fan Fiction to accept my choices. Must be missing something.


Warrior Comparison

Sonny had stood up, toasted Adam's flag-wrapped casket, proclaimed "I do not bear this sword in vain," and downed his shot of whiskey. He made another declaration and toast, then another.

Ray placed his hands on his knees, heaving himself to his feet, despite his sad exhaustion, and joined Sonny's recitation as he walked over to stand beside his fallen comrade. One by one, the Bravo members did the same, repeating their SEAL team creed in unison,

"I do not advertise the nature of my work nor seek recognitions for my actions. I voluntarily accept the inherent hazards of my profession, placing the welfare and security of others before my own.

My Nation expects me to be physically harder and mentally stronger than my enemies. If knocked down, I will get back up, every time. I will draw on every remaining ounce of strength to protect my teammates and to accomplish our mission. I am never out of the fight."

Then they knelt beside Adam as the plane landed. When the rear hatch opened, Jason was standing there, clad once again in his desert camo fatigues, waiting for them. He nodded, walked up the gangway, bent and touched the casket flag, then took his place as they lifted their friend to carry him off the plane.

Booth turned off the television monitor, leaned back in his recliner, and closed his eyes, lost in thought.

 _Another chaotic foreign city, another mission gone south, another brother cut down by an enemy nation's fighter, and Clay knocked silly from a round stopped by his Kevlar vest._

 _Change the geography, clothe the men in an older camo pattern, backdate the weapons a little, remove the advantage of night-vision headgear and some other fancy technology._

 _Watch the enemy shoot and kill five Rangers, take others prisoner, shove them into a stinking dirt-floored cell,withhold food and water, torture and interrogate…exert mental efforts to block the pain, fruitless worry about the other men, angst over their abandoned dead, wondering how they could've conducted their mission better…_

 _He remembered drifting in and out of awareness, cringing each time a cell door clanged, hours of praying, pleading for rescue of his brothers, silently reciting multiplication tables, mission parameters, the Ranger Creed singed into his mind. Begging for resolve and grit to hold on, endure longer…_

"Never shall I fail my comrades. I will always … shoulder more than my share of the task whatever it may be, one-hundred-percent and then some.

Surrender is not a Ranger word. I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy and under no circumstances will I ever embarrass my country."

Heaving a deep sigh, Booth smiled slightly. Jared would be teasing him about now. "See, big brother, the squibs are just as brave as your Rangers. Our creed is just as profound, our results as impressive, our stamina and efforts as enduring."

A hot tear burned behind his lids. _Jared._ How he missed all that, the competition, teasing, squabbling, the undercurrent of love concealed beneath their years of brotherly jousting.

He heard little feet on the stairway, spotted a tousled blond head bent over slightly as his son burst through the man cave doorway. Hank was out of bed again.

"Daddy? Can I sit with you? I hadda bad dream…"

Booth clicked off the remote, raised his chair, and opened his arms, "C'mere, Tiger. Wanna tell me about it?"

"No! Too scary! I jus' need ta be held!"

His somber reverie faded as Booth indulged in his favorite panacea. Pushing the over-large chair back, he enfolded the tense little body in his much larger arms, hugging Hank, murmuring quiet reassurances until as the boy relaxed into his broad chest and faded into slumber once again.

Booth nudged the recliner a bit flatter, settled into its depths, and nodded off as well.

 **A/N: This came to me after last night's SEAL Team episode, which I watched on our oldest TV, due to familial competition. Why do all our favorite shows happen on the same night? With an outdated smaller grainy screen, basic cable only, and no rewind, interrupted by trick-or-treaters, my quoting of the dialogue might not be entirely accurate, for which I apologize.**


End file.
